


Cowboys and Aliens

by mansikka



Series: Learning To Love You Right [5]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 13:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21254387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Michael and Alex host their first Halloween party together





	1. Michael and Alex

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Here is a little Halloween-y check in on Michael and Alex's blissful little life! Some of it's fun, some of it's silly; you have been warned. Happy reading!

Alex pulls a sweater from his closet and puts it on, tugging down the sleeves as far as they will go. Today feels like Fall has bypassed them altogether to go straight into Winter. He shudders even though the house is warm, recovering from the blast of cold air he had for taking out some trash.

When he's plucked at the sweater to get it to sit right Alex goes back to the task he came upstairs to do. He begins folding away their freshly dried clothes into their closets, hugging one of Michael's shirts to him since it's still warm from the dryer.

Michael is still outside, barely fazed by the overnight drop in temperature. He's having the time of his _life_. There are artificial cobwebs over the gate and foliage to the front of the house, and old-fashioned lanterns hanging from the porch. There are expertly carved pumpkins either side of it with lights in ready for this evening, and various other decorations just about everywhere they look. Alex's favorite is two skeletons sharing a wheelbarrow in front of the garage, but he loves all the others as well.

Alex jolts then for seeing Michael's face peering in through the window, the glee in his smile curling up the corners of Alex's mouth. But he shouldn't be up there on that damn rickety ladder. So he glares through the glass until Michael looks suitably chastised and ducks his head. Alex makes his way back outside to join him, staring up at him from the foot of the ladder with his foot on the bottom rung to stop it moving as he makes his way down.

"Okay, okay, I'm down," Michael says smacking a kiss to his cheek, one arm curling around his waist as more of that clingy artificial cobweb trails from his hand. "I just wanted more of this on the windows."

"Michael," Alex says, turning to get both arms around his waist. "There are other ways."

Michael grins again once more kissing his cheek, then sends the cobweb scattering in the air with his thoughts. Alex tucks in closer as he watches the careful way Michael decorates the house's windows from the safety of the ground.

"See?" he says, rewarding him with a squeeze. "That looks amazing."

"You think we'll get trick and treaters?" Michael says, the hope in his voice making Alex soft.

"Are you joking? Michael. Every kid from every house around here that hasn't already been invited has been talking about this place all week. Everywhere I go all I hear is kids whispering about _the Guerin house_. They _love_ you," Alex adds, because it's true. And though he might not be a Guerin officially _yet_, he knows that will come someday. He's more than happy being referred to as such until and after then.

He and Michael are hosting a Halloween party tonight, with half the neighborhood due to arrive in a few hours. The kitchen is overflowing with food already, with every surface earmarked for where everything will go. They've bought a second table which is already protesting under the weight of so many drinks, which are carefully organized so they will be away from young hands later. And several neighbors will be bringing their own dishes as well, which means the pasting table they used for decorating has been reinforced and covered in Halloween-themed table coverings ready for when they all arrive.

The backyard is a graveyard, with crumbling headstones and skeletons climbing out of the grass. Michael has done something with the lights on the chicken coop to make the green of its light even eerier. They tested it last night, the sight of all those skeletons and graves bathed in green enough to make Alex shudder into Michael's side.

There is little else they can do to prepare, too early to cook the remaining things that need cooking, and too late to go out to get anything else they might have forgotten; not that Alex thinks it's possible they could have. They should probably rest a little, though then Alex remembers a surprise he has for Michael and tugs on his hand to lead him inside.

"What?" Michael says as Alex walks him over to the couch and makes him sit.

"You'll see. Copper?"

Copper is curled in a ball in his bed, distinctly unimpressed with how cold it is outside. The mournful look in his eyes when they'd tried to walk him this morning meant they both had to resist picking him up to carry home. He still has a look of reproach when he opens his eyes to look at Alex, though the thump of his tail suggests maybe he's forgiven. It still takes the offer of a treat to rouse him to sit up, and a second one to coax him from the bed.

Alex watches Michael fuss and play with Copper as he returns to Copper's kitchen cupboard, pulling out the _surprise_ he has for Michael and already laughing. He walks back to the couch, shielding Michael's view with his back so he can't see what he's doing to Copper, though is then distracted for the fingers sneaking up the back of his shirt.

Copper wags his tail in confusion, though by now Alex thinks their dog is more than used to his humans and their sometimes-strange antics. He stands patiently as Alex secures the velcro fastening around his belly, and even ducks his head a little when he slides the antenna headband on. Michael erupts with laughter when he steps to the side. As well as the bright green antenna sticking up from Copper's head is an alien sat on a UFO on his back. Copper turns his head to sniff in curiosity, though apparently picks up on Michael's joy for seeing it, because he gives a soft woof and wags his tail harder, nosing at Michael's knee.

"See? Everyone in this house has a costume now," Alex says as he sits down beside him, laughing as Copper clambers up on to their laps. Alex has already fully appreciated Michael in his cowboy costume. Twice.

"You think we could persuade at least Noodle to put on a little cape or something? I value my fingers too much to try it with Butter and Pie."

"I think they're adjusting enough to all the company they now have in the backyard," Alex replies, because those headstones and skeletons have made their way into the sectioned off area for the chicken coop as well. There are even green things spilling from inside the ship that look like tentacles. The chickens have enough decoration, he thinks, after catching Butter trying to bite through one of those tentacles this morning. Though it isn't as though their poor chickens haven't been witness to all kinds of weirder things through living with _them_.

"You think everyone will come?" Michael asks again, his childlike excitement gripping Alex's heart.

"I know they will," he insists. He can't wait to see Michael's face when Max and Isobel show up as a surprise, as well as all their other guests.

* * *


	2. Max and Isobel

"I'm not moving for a _month_," Isobel says as she collapses into the armchair in the corner of the conservatory, groaning as she falls.

It's a little after two in the morning, and after the very last of Michael and Alex's guests left about an hour ago, Isobel and Max have helped them put the house back together. It looks like a home again instead of an all-you-can-eat buffet with a Halloween theme.

The party was a success, with a constant stream of friends and neighbors all happily mingling, and praise ringing out for all the costumes everyone has gone to so much effort to make or buy. Alex's evening has been made from the moment Michael walked down the stairs in his cowboy attire. But seeing his face light up with glee for every arrival has made it even more perfect. It's an incredible thing to witness Michael acknowledging how much he is loved by those around him.

"Bed's already made," Alex tells Isobel when she stops fidgeting, with Michael _beaming_ at him before dropping down by his side. He hasn't stopped smiling all night, for all of it, but especially for Alex's surprise of Max and Isobel coming to stay for a couple of days.

"I still can't believe you didn't know we were coming," Max adds as though he is reading Alex's thoughts. He's drunk far more than any of them and it's showing. He's been affectionate with his hugs and earnest with his conversations, and is currently laid out on the floor. Texting Liz from the looks of things; there is some raucous Halloween party going on at the Wild Pony back in Roswell that he keeps showing them pictures of. _"Gross_," Max says then with a grimace, all but throwing his phone. Alex hopes it's a costume he's looking at…

"I almost slipped up and told you twice," Alex tells Michael as he nudges against him. He'd definitely had a near miss earlier when apparently taking their laundry upstairs _twice_, when what he was really doing the first time was making up the spare beds.

"It's possible I've been a _little_ distracted," Michael replies, taking off his cowboy hat and running a hand through his curls. It's been on lopsided for the past hour while the four of them cleaned up; Alex has been half-mesmerized waiting for it to fall.

"This place looks amazing," Isobel says then looking up at the ceiling. There are orange streamers of pumpkin faces, candles almost down to the end of their wicks that were once witches hands, and skulls, and plenty more besides.

"All Michael's doing," Alex tells her, earning himself a nudge.

"Seriously, Michael. You've really got an eye for detail."

"Not trying to recruit me into your business for something, are you, Iz?"

"Well. You know. Family business and all."

"So what's _Max_ gonna do?"

"Road test couches," Max replies, groaning, though making no effort to get up from the floor. Alex ducks his head while watching Isobel half-heartedly stretch out to kick him in the leg and then decide otherwise because she can't reach, flopping forward to take off her shoes instead. So maybe all of them are a _little_ drunk.

"And Alex, of course, will do all the web design and advertising stuff," Michael adds, throwing his arm around Alex's shoulders and smacking a kiss to his temple.

"Oh, I've already recruited _him_," Isobel retorts with a dismissive wave. "He's _already_ family." She _has_, in a way, with Alex helping with her website. He might still have nightmares about how unsecured the thing was. Though he is touched by her _family_ comment, smiling when Isobel winks at him from across the room.

"So. Tell me again," Michael says as he stretches against him, "who are you two supposed to be tonight?"

"Jane. And Alec," Isobel says, sitting back up to untie the bows at her neck on the thing she is wearing. Alex wants to call it a cape.

"And they would be…?"

"From _Twilight_," Alex says, elbowing Michael in the ribs. Michael grins at him; he _knows_ who Isobel and Max are supposed to be. He's just looking to get a rise out of Isobel.

"I had to find something that was the least effort for _someone_," Isobel adds, scowling at Max, who raises his hand to half-heartedly flip her off before turning abruptly on to his side. He looks Alex up and down as though he's only just noticed _his_ attire.

"Han Solo?"

"Yes."

"Sweet."

"_Hot_," Michael adds with a leering look that Alex fights against laughing at.

"_Dude_," Max protests, rolling back over and covering his eyes. Which is when Copper chooses to join them in the conservatory to see why his humans are up so late. He wags his tail for seeing someone at his height sprawled on the floor and noses against Max's side for attention. Max _loves_ Copper, pulling him to sit on his stomach then groaning out loud that he's too heavy.

"You think _any_ of the parents on this street are getting any sleep tonight?" Isobel asks, swiveling round to throw her feet over the arm of the chair. "All that candy."

"I can't believe we run out of it all. _How_?" Michael says, laughing. "I swear there were like… all of the kids from everywhere here. And they all _brought_ stuff. There can't be anything left out there on the shelves of any grocery stores for miles around."

"And that _cake_," Isobel adds, somehow, after all they've eaten, still licking her lips, "that giant one that looked like a pumpkin with all the frosting. _So_ good."

"That was _Bernard_ from next door who made that," Michael says, laughing; Alex pouts at him in reproach.

"Bernard started taking cake decorating classes. He _loves_ baking. This wasn't even his first cake for an event."

"I think he's done three weddings now?" Michael says, smiling when Alex nods his head to confirm.

"I think he secretly dreams of getting on that Bake Off show, or something."

"It's _all_ he watches."

"Well. Maybe not _all_," Alex amends, thinking of all the restoration programs that always seem to be on in Bernard's study when they go over.

"No, maybe not _all_," Michael agrees, dropping his face on to Alex's shoulder as he yawns. "He'd _like_ to watch that thing… what was that thing? The ghost thing?"

"Oh. Ghost Hunters."

"That's it."

"Kim won't let him watch it when she's in the house," Alex explains, laughing for remembering the argument Kim and Bernard had the last time he'd tried to watch it. "Says it gives ghosts ideas."

Isobel pulls a face. "Gives them _ideas_?"

"Hey. You're not exactly a skeptic," Max says as he continues to tickle Copper, who is riggling and panting and having a great time for all the attention.

"I never said I was. Nothing's going to _give them ideas_, though. Ghosts are either there, or they aren't. You don't _give them ideas_."

"You've put a lot of thought into this," Michael says; Alex knocks his leg against Michael's for the tone of tease in his voice.

"I don't need to put thought into it," Isobel retorts. "I've _seen_ a ghost. I know they're real."

"When did _you_ see a ghost?"

"Michael. How many events have I organized, in how many venues all over the place? You don't think there's been the potential to see at least one measly ghost in all that time?"

"Alright," Michael agrees, in that reasonable tone that Alex knows only means more teasing. "So what did they look like, exactly? Tails and top hat? The old sheet with the eyes cut out thing? What?"

"They look just like _people_. Obviously."

"Doing what?"

"Some people believe ghosts are just like the echoes of former lives. Walking through old doorways that aren't there anymore. Noises from machinery, or something that's no longer there. Like a memory, really," Alex adds, thinking of numerous stories he's heard over the years.

Michael presses a loud snorted kiss to his cheek and shakes his head. "Not you too."

"Yes, me too," Alex insists.

"You must've heard more stories than any of us," Max adds, looking up at them both by tilting his head back.

"I've heard a few, yeah."

"Cells down at the precinct sometimes have _guests_," Max says then, oofing when Copper steps off him in an unfortunate place. Copper walks over to Alex to sniff his hand then wags his tail and waddles off back through to the living room in search of his bed.

"I didn't meet any of your _guests_ when I was there," Michael points out.

"Well. I guess you just lucked out then."

"So. Who are these _guests_ supposed to be?"

"There's a guy who got caught stealing a horse. Was apparently found dead in his cell; think the owner got to him."

Michael scoffs and shakes his head, pulling his arm back from around Alex's shoulders to hold his hand against his thigh. "Right."

"And there's supposed to be this girl. Teenager. Street urchin. Something like that. From around the Great Depression times."

"You actually _seen_ either of these, Max?" Michael asks, full of disdain.

"No. But Cam did. Couple of others. I thought I _heard_ the girl once when I was there late at night. Just kept on thinking I heard someone saying _please_ over and over."

"Well. I for one don't believe either of those are even real. I was _in_ those cells often enough to know if I had some kind of spooky company, or not."

"The clearest one I remember is that old hotel across town that I did that graduation party for. Remember?" Isobel asks, craning her neck to catch Max's eye.

"That one really spooked you out, huh?" Max replies with a small smile.

"Uh. _Yeah_."

"So?" Alex asks, intrigued. "What? What happened?"

"Oh, the usual. I'm in the room setting everything up, lights start flickering. Piano in the corner that I _thought_ was just for show started playing."

"Wind. Uneven flooring. Electrics screwing around," Michael retorts in instant dismissal. Alex grins and squeezes his fingers.

"I went through all of those too," Isobel replies, leaning forward to pick up her glass from the table to toy with instead of drink from. "Told myself it was late, I was tired, it was my overactive imagination. Believe it too, enough times."

"So, what changed your mind?" Alex asks. Isobel isn't rattled by _anything_.

"It was like you said. The echo thing. One minute I'm freaking out for the piano _tinkling_, next I'm thinking I'm seeing things. The room changed decor, I heard laughter, and glasses clinking together. People turning slowly on a dancefloor. Looked like something from maybe the 1940s for the clothes they were wearing."

"Right," Michael says, disdainful once again. "You weren't just overworked, or imagining things."

"I know what I _saw_," Isobel protests.

"I know you thought it was real," Max adds in solidarity, "I could see what you thought you were seeing. And feel it."

Alex would ask more about the twin sense thing that Isobel and Max share, but saves it for another time. He's spoken to Isobel about it once or twice already but doesn't really understand it.

"Out in the desert. We would see things. Imagine things," Alex says then, recalling stories whispered in hushed voices, local tales passed on by some of the people they were overseas trying to help.

"Like what?" Isobel asks, hands clasped around the stem of her wine glass as she stares back at him in expectation.

"They had this thing, about a sand… I think they translated it as a _goblin_, or _gremlin_, or something? How, the sand would take on the embodiment of those from around the village we were in to lure people out of their homes."

"Like… for what?" Isobel asks. Alex can feel Michael staring at him a little more intently.

"Well. To steal their souls, obviously," he says, laughing. "One of the kids we met in this place—I can't remember the name now—was convinced this sand goblin took on the form of his grandmother to lure his grandfather out of their home."

"What happened to the grandfather?"

"Found him dead, in the desert, apparently having choked on sand."

"Well that's just _creepy_," Isobel says, both grimacing and shuddering.

"And you believed him?" Max asks, flopping over to prop himself up on his arms.

"Not really? Though like I said. We heard stuff. Saw stuff. It can play tricks on you sometimes. The dark, the cold, or heat, whatever. Exhaustion."

"Are you talking about something specific?" Michael asks far softer than his questions have been for Max and Isobel. Alex intends to tease him about that later. Though first, he has his story to share.

"We lost one of our guys. Stepped on a landmine; pretty similar to what happened to me eventually, I guess," he adds, absently rubbing at his leg. He is surprised when Max reaches out and prods his prosthetic in curiosity, before nodding as though to tell him to carry on. "He'd been gone about six weeks when we were moving on to a new base. Arrived just in time for a sand storm; worst one I ever experienced. Whole base was on lockdown because it was just… you couldn't go outside."

"That sounds pretty creepy too," Isobel says, shuddering. "All that noise from the wind and the sand blasting at the side of your… I don't know. Tents?"

"It was loud," Alex agrees, laughing, "and yeah, pretty scary when you're not used to it. And when it got late and didn't drop at all, it just seemed even worse. It was pretty dark anyway because of the sand storm, but being night just… yes. It made it worse."

"What did you see?" Michael asks.

"Four of us were looking out at this really hard blast that, we found out in the morning, smashed a few truck windows in. But right by one of the trucks, all four of us _swore_ we saw Peter. The guy we'd lost. It was so clearly _him_. And in the sand storm it looked like he was either walking towards us, or waving, beckoning for us to follow. Which, obviously we _didn't_."

"_Seriously_?"

Alex holds in his grin for the look of horror on Michael's face, and the way he clutches his hand even tighter.

"I know what I saw. I corroborated my story with the other guys; they know what they saw too."

"But, like. There was no mistake, right?" Isobel asks, curling up in her chair. "He'd… _actually_ died, right?"

"Saw him get hit myself," Alex replies, forcing the images away. Michael raises and kisses the back of his hand.

"Well that's just… urgh," Isobel says, shuddering.

"Strangest thing though," Alex adds, because this is the part he still lies awake thinking about sometimes. "In the morning when the storm had died down, we obviously went to inspect all the damage. We found one of his dog tags just lying there in the sand by the truck."

"And… he'd not been the one driving the truck when he was still alive?" Michael asks, his eyes flaring a little wider.

"No. Not at all. In fact, the truck was a new one. New to us, anyway. We took it on from another unit who were sent somewhere else."

"So. There's no _way_ this dog tag could've fallen out of the truck, or someone's pocket, or… there's no way?" Michael asks. If Alex didn't know better he'd think he was pleading with him to give his story a better ending.

"No," he says, shrugging, "there's no other way. I can't explain what I saw. I know logically what I think, and what I actually think, and those two things don't always fit together."

"This is too _weird_," Max announces, flopping over once again on to his back.

"I think I maybe saw something once. Or heard something. At the scrapyard," Michael adds for clarification when Alex squeezes his hand.

"Like what?"

"It was probably nothing."

"But?"

Michael sucks in a breath as though hesitating before talking. "It was maybe… I don't know. Five? Six years ago now? We'd had a couple of wrecks come in, and they were a mess. Just twists of metal; I don't think we could've even scrapped them, but they got sent over anyway. And I admit. It was a little weird the idea of sleeping there that night thinking about these two cars that had crashed into one another, killing everyone. You could still see—it was obvious, what had happened to them."

"That's horrible," Alex says, stroking his thumb over the back of his hand.

"Yeah. And I'm only telling you that, because I know _I've_ convinced myself I've seen all kinds of stuff, Iz. When I've been tired, or it's too hot, or something. Seen all kinds of crap out on the horizon when there's no one else around."

"But—"

"But at the same time as these crash cars were dropped off, we had this old pick up come in too. Like, real old. Full of rust; I think maybe the rust was the only thing holding it together. And it just… it felt _weird_, you know?"

"Weird how?" Max asks.

"Just… you know, when something's just not right? I can't explain it. I half-expected to see someone in the rearview when I climbed inside, started poking around."

"_Creepy_."

"It was," Michael agrees. "And I found this old… pendant, medallion, talisman thing in the glove compartment. Carved in old bone, with this ridge in the side, like those worry stone things you get your thumb in? It just felt _wrong_, man. Just… like whoever it belonged to didn't want anyone to touch it. Felt like I got an electric shock, or something."

"So. What did you do?" Isobel asks, staring at Michael intently, her eyes big and round.

"We scrapped it. The pick up I mean. What we could; it had a surprisingly good radio, and the brakes were brand new. Everything else, though," Michael says, sighing as though he's remembering stripping the thing, "everything else was no good for anything."

"You get all kinds of cars dumped there, huh?" Max asks.

"Yeah. Anyway. Didn't think any more of it. Fixed up some other cars. Had some beers. Laid out in the Airstream, reading. _Someone's _old letters," Michael adds with a wink when Alex looks his way.

Isobel makes a sound that sounds like an _aww_ that both Alex and Michael choose to ignore.

"Fell asleep," Michael continues. "But I woke up to this _scratching_ at the windows."

"Please don't tell me like fingernails," Isobel says, her feet now tucked up beneath her as though she's trying to make herself small.

"No. More like tree branches."

"In the middle of the _desert_?" Max says, incredulous.

"I just said that was what it _sounded_ like. Not what it _was_."

"Right."

"Anyway. This happens a couple more times. I jump out of bed, look out through the window. Nothing. There's some kids who sometimes used to come out late at night to hang about, try stealing some stuff for scrap; you know how it is. I went back to bed. But again when I closed my eyes this scratching started up again. So I went outside to look."

"_Why_?" Alex asks in protest, gripping Michael's hand tighter. Though it's not like he can fix anything now.

"To _look_," Michael replies, grinning at him. "Again. Saw nothing. Took me some work to get the Airstream door back open, though, I can tell you. It was like someone was holding it closed from inside."

"I don't like this," Isobel says shaking her head, still attempting to retreat into the chair.

"Anyway," Michael says, both laughing, and sounding like he agrees with her, without saying the actual words. "I finally get back in there. Nothing looks wrong, or how it shouldn't. I take another beer, sit up for a while. Go back to bed."

"Then what happened?" Max asks.

"Same thing starts up again. So I head back outside, and I'm _mad_. Just trying to sleep, you know? Hadn't heard from you in a while, so I was worrying anyway," Michael adds. Alex leans in to kiss him once again ignoring Isobel's _response_.

"Sorry."

Michael smiles at him with a private, _we're good now_ look that no one else needs to know the meaning of. "Anyway. So I'm stamping around outside, not seeing anything, go back to bed. This happens another three times, and by then, I'm fit to break something, you know?"

"Or, you know, drive away, like a normal person?" Isobel says, with a look of pure disbelief for him.

"And when I go back inside this last time, that… medallion, pendant thing is spinning on the side, that little shelf thing above my bed. Just… spinning. Like someone's just put it there."

Isobel shudders both audibly and visibly. "Why would you even keep something like that, Michael. I mean, seriously?"

"I didn't," Michael replies. "We were gonna pass it on to the original owner of the pick up. Tracked them down. Turns out the guy who owned the thing had died the day before. Didn't have any family around. Neighbors brought the truck to us, said he didn't have anyone else. So, the pendant went on the scrap heap along with everything else."

"That was something sentimental for someone. _Personal_," Max says, sounding like he objects.

"Well, what else was I supposed to do with it?" Michael says. "I ended up with it anyway, didn't I?"

"You still _have_ it?" Isobel says, her voice getting higher and higher.

"Tried to get rid of it. Kept coming back," Michael says, shrugging. "It's still in the Airstream as far as I know. Not causing any bother for Devin, anyway. Think maybe it was something meant for protection, or something?"

"Well. On that note, I think I'm going to bed," Max announces, standing and looking as though he might fall down again, which he thankfully doesn't.

"Who else is sleeping with the light on tonight?" Isobel adds as she too stands, and Michael and Alex join them. "Me. I am."

Michael laughs, grabbing the hand she's waving in the air and tugging her in for a hug. "You'll be fine. Light or no light."

"If any light so much as _flickers_," she says then with a fierce glare and finger point for both Max and Michael. "I know you wouldn't do that to me," she adds in affection as she pulls Alex in for his hug.

"Well. Goodnight," Max says, waving from the doorway, rolling his eyes when Isobel turns him around. Michael wraps his arm around Alex's waist kissing his temple, the two of them laughing as they listen to Isobel and Max drunkenly bicker as they make their way upstairs.

"I think our first year of hosting Halloween went well, right?" Michael says, turning Alex in his arms.

"I'd say so," Alex agrees, throwing his arms over his shoulders and leaning against him. "Is it weird that I'm hungry again?"

"Uh, no?" Michael says, laughing, "I'm starving. You wanna raid the fridge with me?"

Alex takes his hand following him to the kitchen, where Michael lifts him up to sit on a counter. Copper comes to join them, and the three of them cast long shadows out across the room lit only by the few remaining lantern fairylights still flickering around. Copper claims a piece of sausage and a meatball, while Michael and Alex take pot luck with potato salad, some cheese ball things neither of them remember buying, and a spaghetti dish that looks like it's supposed to be intestines, which tastes even better cold. They stack the sink with their dishes, letting Copper out into the yard for a final run before bed, with Alex shuddering against Michael for how cold it is.

"Let's get to bed," Michael says once Copper has trotted back inside.

They make their way upstairs, snorting with laughter when they can hear Max already snoring in his room, and seeing that Isobel's door still open a fraction with the bedside lamp on. Alex shivers as he put his pajamas on, both of them quickly brushing their teeth before jumping into bed.

"You're freezing," Michael whispers as Alex curls up in his arms, pressing against him at every point to warm up.

"You're like a furnace. You're perfect," Alex replies, lifting his head up to smile.

"Happy Halloween, Alex," Michael says then, raising his head for a kiss.

Alex sneaks a hand out to flatten curls back away from Michael's forehead before tucking his arm back beneath the comforter and shivering once again. He presses a kiss to his neck and nuzzles against him with a happy, sleepy sigh. "Happy Halloween."

* * *


	3. Bonnie and Fred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex have some visitors while they sleep.

They're so happy to have Michael _home_ again. They've been watching over him ever since he arrived, worried for him when initially he looked so sad, and lost. Over time they've seen him grieve and grow, transform this house as well as himself, and become the man they always knew their beautiful foster son was going to be. Their hearts may beat no longer, but they are still filled with pride and love for him.

This All Hallows' Eve, when the veil between the living and the dead is that much thinner, they have watched their former home transformed once more for neighbors and friends. There has been happiness and laughter ringing out and filling this space they used to occupy, the sound of which has evoked memories of the Halloweens they've hosted in the past. They recognize some of the faces of their old friends, and are thrilled to see so many new ones with Michael in their old home. _His_ home now, his and Alex's, who Fred and Bonnie have fallen in love with just as much as they had done Michael all those years ago. They couldn't have hoped for a better partner for their son.

As they watch them sleep, Bonnie and Fred are at peace for seeing them so restful. They are here often, drawn back time and time again to Michael, thrilled to have their boy returned. Copper sees them sometimes offering a hesitant wagging tail and a curious sniff, but Bonnie and Fred never stay for too long nor do anything to reveal themselves. This is Michael's time now, Michael's time and home; they are just checking in. Content enough to know just how much their son is loved.

* * *


	4. Noodle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a little crack; Noodle The Chicken might not be quite as you expected at all!

The house is finally in darkness, now that the last light has gone out in the upstairs window, and there are no more sounds coming from the occupants inside. Noodle pecks at the ground beneath her coop inspecting for stray morsels of food in subterfuge, one eye on the building in case any of them sneak back out. 

It's been quite the evening. The house has been full of guests, with _Copper_ excitedly running from person to person not knowing who to greet first. Noodle has only seen him quite that excited when playing with _her_, though that's only ever in snatched moments when she is sure there are no human eyes that will see.

Sure that she is now alone in the world, Noodle stops pecking, stares over the house, then exhales a deep sigh, releasing all the tentacles that have been tucked up in her for what has to be more than two days now. Sometimes it's really good just to let them stretch out, have them extend beyond the barriers of their enclosure and go exploring for new treats along the grass.

Noodle finds a gumball, a candy in the shape of Dracula teeth, and something that she suspects is chicken. Which of course she _doesn't_ eat. It's not just because of her own chicken _costume_ that she's been wearing since seeking to study the planet some fifteen years previous, but out of deference and politeness to her chicken sisters Butter and Pie, who are fast asleep in their coop, oblivious.

Noodle hops up on to the UFO coop roof when she's had her fill of extra treats, letting her tentacles dangle and explore. They tangle in the offerings Michael has put up in the entrance to the coop, and she smiles for it; internally of course. There aren't many smiles to be had with only a _beak_. Though for Michael, of course, there are always smiles, ones of comradeship, and admiration. He's really made a _life_ for himself on this planet, whereas she has never quite felt brave enough. 

True, Michael is lucky enough to be fairly humanoid in appearance, so it has probably been far easier for him than it could ever be for her. But she recognizes the wistful look in his eyes sometimes, or rather did do when she first arrived here in the house. He never looks wistful now, only joyful, and carefree—and loved. Which is why Alex is Noodle's favorite, favorite human.

Noodle cranes her neck back as she continues her musings looking up at the clear sky overhead. Stars twinkle and beckon her; one day she will return home, she is sure. Her people lead very long lives in comparison with humans, so when she's fulfilled her research project here on Earth they will come to collect her, and she can live out the rest of her days in more familiar lands. Noodle wonders if her technically living with another form of alien will skew her studies here, though since Michael_ lives_ as a human she doesn't see how it can. She hopes not anyway. Five more Earth years of this she can manage, but having to come back again? Noodle shudders at the thought. All that green and blue they could see from their ship in space painted quite a different picture to the reality that is here on Earth. 

Noodle berates herself for being ungrateful. Michael has been wonderful to her, and both Butter and Pie since he rescued them all. Noodle suspects that were she to reveal herself to him as an _alien_ he would be just as welcoming. He is a smart, intelligent, man, though not smart enough to realize that all the eggs that are ready for his collection most mornings come from Butter and Pie only, and not herself. 

A cluck comes from inside the UFO coop then, and Noodle smiles fondly for Butter shifting in her sleep. Do other chickens dream of the days they'll become dinosaurs again? Noodle isn't sure, but she knows Butter and Pie do. She can read their thoughts. _Chickens_ aren't anywhere near as _empty headed_ as the humans would have people believe.

It is getting late. Noodle allows her tentacles to fully stretch out for just another moment then recoils them in, fitting them back into her body and shuddering for the cold. She hops in through the entrance of the UFO coop and waddles over to huddle down with Butter and Pie near the back to keep warm. Another five years of this, she thinks as she dozes off. There are far worse places she could have ended up. No, life as Noodle the Chicken isn't a bad one at all.


End file.
